


At Night

by LoreGalore



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon!Shane, M/M, Somnophilia, This is just smut, ill add more tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreGalore/pseuds/LoreGalore
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 9
Kudos: 418





	At Night

Sleeping in haunted locations is always next to impossible. Ryan doesn’t know how the hell Shane does it. Well, he knows how; Shane is an idiot that thinks he won’t face any consequences for antagonizing what’s beyond his understanding.

Leave it to Ryan to worry enough for the both of them. Right now, he’s squinting his stingingly dry eyes trying to see whatever is making the whispers in the darkness.

The house had to be the most stereotypical horror movie setting ever. It was literally a cabin in the woods, large enough to be a mansion and separate enough from the rest of civilization that it may take weeks for a body to be found. Which is just what happened.

Shane had just snickered when he learned what happened to the previous owner. He’d shouted plenty of crass jokes into the house when they explored it in the daytime, mocking that maybe the man wasn’t murdered by being strangled with a belt, that he’d just gotten a little too excited with his self-pleasure methods.

Just remembering some of the jokes made Ryan blush in shame. Shane had colorfully suggested what the man got up to in his free time, which Ryan knew would render most of their footage unusable. At one point, the secondhand embarrassment had been enough for Ryan to snap, “Shane, seriously, shut the fuck up!”

Shane had barely glanced back at him, grinning into the empty master bedroom and calling, “Is this where the magic happened? Didja try butt stuff in here, too?”

“Shane!” Ryan shouted, fist tightening around his flashlight. The anger that he’d stopped trying to repress in his voice made Shane startle and turn to him. Ryan glared at him, knowing his face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Lay off, will you? One more sex joke and I’m clubbing you in the head with my flashlight.”

Shane’s eyes glittered behind his glasses, clearly thinking of several comebacks, and Ryan stomped off before he would have to hear any of them.

The joke never came, and eventually Shane found him in the next hallway, elbows leaned on the banister overlooking the atrium. “Hey,” he said, not exactly apologetic but no longer impish with mocking glee. “You okay, Ry?”

“You need to be more respectful, dude,” Ryan muttered, running a hand through his hair and straightening up. He looked down to the first floor, tiled marble, and wondered if anyone had been shoved over this railing to their death. “Whether or not you think ghosts are real, you can’t just say whatever crude shit comes to mind. Someone died here, man.”

Shane didn’t answer at first, and Ryan looked over at him to see the man staring at him. “So?” Shane said, seemingly genuinely confused. “People have died everywhere we go. The whole world’s full of death. Either you get depressed about mortality and the inevitable death of everyone you know, or you make fun lil jokes that the already-dead’ll never hear.”

Ryan scoffed, but it came out more like a sigh. Shane could be shockingly considerate sometimes, but then there were moments when he’s so insensitive to the dead that you wonder if he’s ever lost anyone important to him.

“That’s not the point,” Ryan eventually replied. Shane’s head tilted like it did sometimes, birdlike and making the viewer think they’re being judged.

“What is the point? You make jokes about the dead all the time.”

Ryan puffed out a sigh. “Yeah, well, that’s not great of me either. I shouldn’t do it.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Shane said, stepping closer. “Why do you feel guilty about it now?”

Ryan shifted his weight to his other foot, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I dunno... I guess what you were saying got to me more than the other times we dick around.”

Shane stared at him for another moment, unblinking. Then his head untilted. “Bad content,” he stated. Ryan frowned at him in bemusement and he clarified, “It’s not that I was being irreverent, it’s what I was saying that made you uncomfortable.”

“I mean... yeah.”

“Is it the sex part?”

Jesus. Shane could be so blunt. “Fuckin’- Yes! You’re yelling kinky stuff at a ghost, and you’re being weirdly specific about it. I don’t even wanna know what some of the things you say are.”

“You don’t want a kinky crash course?” Shane drawled, back to teasing. Ryan rolled his eyes, sassed something back, and then they moved on. Hopefully they could salvage some of the footage tonight.

Shane had toned down the jokes for the rest of the evening, and then the cameramen set up the overnight camera and left. They’d be staying on the other side of the building so nothing they did would interfere with the Ghoul Boys’ investigation.

Ryan peered over at Shane for the dozenth time that night, wondering how he could dance through life so oblivious to how real people lived and felt. Ryan knew that was unfair of him; he knew Shane had his own fears, and worries, and lofty dreams, but the guy rarely even hinted at them! The one fear he ever talked about was ridiculous and would never happen, and other than that he seemed to cover everything up with humor.

Maybe he was just as scared as Ryan, but better at hiding it. Maybe Ryan just never noticed what affected him.

Ryan resisted the sudden urge to brush Shane’s hair off his forehead. Instead, he turned around and firmly shut his eyes, determined to at least doze before morning.

It was blessedly quiet for a while, and Ryan could feel his shoulders loosening, his mind drifting off. He was nearly asleep when he heard something click. He was awake in an instant, staring at where he thought the noise had come from with wide eyes.

The door on his and Shane’s right. They were nudged up against the far wall under the window, and the door on the inner wall of the house was a faded white with some scratches across its surface. Ryan remembered Shane made another joke about them even though Ryan had insisted they were from a demonic creature.

The sound wasn’t the door creaking, as it was still firmly shut. Ryan hesitated for a moment (or three) then slipped out of his sleeping bag and went to the door. He turned the handle, but when he pulled, the door didn’t swing open. He jerked harder but the door just rattled in its frame. Locked. That had been the definitive click of a lock that had woken him.

Ryan spun around to wake Shane and get his help, but the sleeping bag next to his was empty. Ryan looked back at the door. Shane must have left when Ryan was asleep, probably for the bathroom. Had he accidentally locked Ryan in?

Or maybe it wasn’t an accident.

Ryan swallowed the sudden swell of trepidation on his tongue and called out, soft and quiet in the night air, “Shane?”

Nothing. He tried again, a little louder but afraid to break the silence more than he already had. He could feel the back of his neck prickle with the awareness that he was alone on the west side of the manor, locked in with, potentially, a murdered ghost or something much darker.

“Nope,” he declared even as panic rapidly set in, and he twisted the knob back and forth as he pulled and pushed with growing desperation.

“Shane, you fucker!” he shouted, even though the goddamn jackass was probably laughing it up on the opposite side of the door. “This isn’t fucking funny, unlock the door!”

“Whaat? I’m having fun!” Shane’s voice complained, sly and joyful and—Ryan froze—right behind him.

Ryan jerked around only to see the empty room. “No,” he said numbly, “this is not happening.”

But Shane’s voice wasn’t muffled like it should be traveling through two inches of solid wood, and no amount of echo would make the words stir the hairs behind Ryan’s ear on an amused exhale.

“Shane, let me out right the fuck now,” Ryan wavered, pressing against the door and staring into the room because he instinctively didn’t want to expose his back. “Shane, please.”

“Begging already?” Shane teased, and he was definitely on the other side of the door now. Ryan slammed a fist against the door and yelled, “Open the goddamn door!”

Something growled from deeper inside the room, and Ryan barely recognized the shriek he let out. “Shane, something’s in here with me!”

“What, like a ghost?”

“I cannot handle your mocking right now, just open the fucking door, Shane.”

“But then it’ll get me, too!”

“Unlock the door or I’ll kill you myself!” Ryan shouted, not sure what he was yelling at, because he could sense that Shane had left. He felt the dark air curling in around him, sliding against the bare skin of his arms and making him shiver. The darkness, strangely warm, crept into his lungs with every hitched breath. “Oh god,” Ryan choked out.

“Not exactly...”

Ryan tensed up so much he could feel his teeth grind. The voice hadn’t come from outside the room, or even inside, it sounded like it had floated up from the back of his head. Holy shit, is he being possessed?

Ryan stuttered out, “You’re not- you’re not welcome here, demon,” as he tried to remember any advice Father Thomas had given him. “Do not be afraid” wasn’t sticking right now.

Holy water. His water bottle was next to his sleeping bag. Ryan’s frantic gaze snapped to the plastic bottle, only to continue flicking back and forth in a futile effort to see what had spoken.

“That’s just rude, Ryan Bergara...”

Ryan whimpered when the voice came again, sounding more present, slithering through his mind like it was his own thought if it hadn’t sounded so different, so growly. Ryan shivered, the door against his back not offering any comfort.

“What are you?” he asked, unable to keep his voice from shaking as much as his hands.

“I think you know, Ryan.”

Ryan jerked forward and lunged for the sleeping bags, sparing a thought to worry for Shane’s safety as his hands wrapped around his holy water. Something caught him by the ankle and he fell hard onto his front, banging his chin on the floor.

The thing around his ankle—it felt like a hand but huge and hot—tugged him backwards and he screamed, scrabbling at the carpet for any leverage. He slid across the floor and was flipped over by a shove to his side, curling up automatically to protect his belly from whatever was above him. He didn’t dare to open his eyes to look.

The thing above him laughed, bright and husky and weirdly familiar. If it wasn’t tinged with dark power and smoke, Ryan would think it sounded like...

“Your fear is addictive, Ryan,” the demon rumbled, and he could feel the heat of it leaning in, then the wet press of a mouth to the thin flesh under his jaw. “Fuck, you taste so good when you’re scared,” it groaned.

“Let me go,” Ryan whispered, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly when he felt them burn. He refused to cry and give this creature the satisfaction.

“Aw, Ryan,” said the demon crouched over him, holding him down with too many hands and sounded so damn amused. “Never.”

Ryan’s gasp hitched in his throat as teeth, so sharp and frightfully cold, scraped over his pulse point. He couldn’t stand not knowing what it was anymore, and forced himself to open his eyes with a sharp inhale.

Red eyes stared down at him, black pupils open wide, like solar eclipses and sparking with amusement. It took a moment for Ryan to look away and at the rest of the creature’s face, and his heart lurched painfully in his chest.

“Shane?” he breathed, not daring to believe it. Shane’s face grinned wider, looking proud and hungry and too full of fangs to fit with the soft scruff of his beard.

“In the flesh,” purred the thing wearing Shane’s face. Ryan felt his eyes burn and let the tears come this time, one hand coming up to muffle a hiccup before it could turn into a sob.

“No...”

“Christ, it feels good to let my hair down,” Shane exclaimed dramatically, rolling his neck until it cracked in each direction. He brought one hand up—clawed, of course it was tipped with inch long black claws—to scratch lazily at his hairline.

Ryan could only stare up in mute horror as horns pushed out of the creature’s hair, each tapered to a wicked red point but black and ridged down to the base.

Shane’s little giggle dragged his gaze back to his face. “Staring at my horny boys, Bergara?” the demon teased.

“Tell me it’s not really you,” slipped out of Ryan’s mouth, lips barely moving as his whole body was tense to the point of immobility. He felt his face grow hot as he nearly begged, “Please tell me you’re just possessed. Tell me I can get my friend back.”

The demon wheezed—so familiar, it still made Ryan’s heart pound for a different reason than terror—and replied as he looked over the human he had pinned, “Possessed, that’s so sweet of you. Unfortunately, this is all me, baby. Though I can pretend I’m some random demon that just jumped in, if it helps.”

“I...” Ryan couldn’t think of anything to say, trailed off when the demon sat up and rolled its shoulders.

“Check this out,” the demon said, and grinned with a mouth full of fangs before starting to contort. Ryan scrambled backwards, away from the Hell creature. The demon yanked Shane’s sleep shirt off its head then curled in on itself with a groan, the pain in its expression making Ryan automatically reach out.

Ryan jumped back when something shifted under Shane’s skin, pushing the flesh away from his spine and roiling with increasing urgency. Shane growled with such vehemence it made Ryan shake, and then the things were punching out of Shane’s back.

Sheets of red slid free, unfolding and tearing Shane’s back open as they grew and grew, stretching out above the two and streaming blood. Ryan screamed as they shook off, spraying blood around and on him, on his skin, in his mouth, and then screamed louder when he realized they were wings. They were enormous, spanning across the entire room like shadows stretching across the sky, still dripping blood as they took the form of red and black bat wings.

“In hindsight, doing this inside wasn’t the best idea,” the demon commented, grimacing as its wings scraped along the cramped walls, bonelike hooks on the tips gouging the plaster.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ryan stuttered to himself, shuffling as far back as he could without tearing his eyes away.

“I’m showing you the truth,” the demon replied, then stage-gasped and added, “I mean, I’m just a demon possessing your friend who totally hasn’t been a demon this whole time.” He had the gall to wink, and it was so like Shane it made Ryan laugh-sob.

He didn’t see the process, but suddenly there was a tail as well, whiplike and colored like the horns. It curled forward like a serpent swaying towards him.

“Oh, this feels so much better,” the demon moaned, running clawed hands through his- its hair. It stood up and stretched like some great beast preparing for a hunt. “It can’t be healthy holding all that in for so long.”

“Shane,” Ryan said, voice cracking over the single syllable. The demon grinned and took one step closer, making Ryan stumble back on his hands.

“Scared yet?” the demon asked. Ryan didn’t reply. The demon just grinned wider, wider than possible, and kept stalking towards Ryan. Its wings ground lines through the wall, its head ducked so its horns wouldn’t do the same to the low ceiling. “Yeah you are, look at you, you’re shaking.” Its voice lowered to a croon. “That’s not the only reason you’re shaking, though, is it?”

Ryan kept skittering backwards, the only source of light the moonlight from the window above him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ryan,” it said in a vaguely chastising tone, sounding exactly like Shane. But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Shane. “You can’t lie to me. I know your little secret.”

“What secret?” Ryan asked, even though he didn’t want to hear it said aloud. He could already feel himself flush from his face and down his neck. Was it heating up around him? Weren’t there supposed to be cold spots? Unless this was hellfire, and he was about to be dragged-

“Fear gets you off,” the demon said, stated it like some indisputable fact. Ryan flushed darker even as he choked out a denial, feeling his back hit the wall and realizing he had cornered himself.

“It does,” the demon continued, smiling with Shane’s face but wrong, it was so unholy and wrong. Its serpentine tail wriggled with glee. “That’s why you torture yourself by going to these places. You’re terrified, and it makes you harder than anything in your life.”

“Shut up,” Ryan said faintly, reaching behind himself. Where the hell did he drop the holy water? The demon crept closer, looking amused the entire time.

“It’s true, though. You’re always yelling at me for locking you in places like this, but you love it. Even if nothing happens, your body fills with anticipation and your mind goes wild.” The demon tilted its head with a fond smile. It laughed to itself, “I can only imagine what this is doing to you.”

Ryan caught sight of his water bottle behind Shane, on its side but thankfully capped. He should start planning how to grab it, to use it and escape, but he can’t take his eyes off Shane. The demon.

“In fact,” the demon mused, pushing closer until they were inches apart, “I wonder what you’re imagining I’ll do to you.”

“No,” said Ryan, an automatic defense. No, he can’t think that. That’s wrong.

“Ryan,” the demon said, still in Shane’s knowing drawl. “You can’t lie to me. I know you dream about it. Hell, I know you think about it whenever we sleep next to each other. You wait until I fall asleep, then you look your fill and you touch yourself under the covers.”

Ryan couldn’t tell if he was hyperventilating or if he’d stopped breathing entirely, he just knew his chest was unbearably tight. “No,” he tried, voice cracking.

Shane purred, “You bite your fist to stay quiet, trying not to wake me up while you jerk off. You didn’t know that I don’t sleep, that I was listening the whole time. I’d hear your whisper for me, asking for the most delicious things.”

Ryan pressed back against the wall as much as he could, but Shane just crowded in closer. His glowing crimson gaze was hypnotic, and Ryan couldn’t look away as much as he wanted to never look at anyone again.

“Ryan,” Shane said softly, glancing at his mouth then biting his own lip. There was a smudge of blood from where his fangs had pricked when he kept talking. “I know your deepest fantasies. I know you want me to take you by force. On our desk. In a dead person’s bed. Against the wall. You want me to take what I want, because you want me so bad but you can’t say it.”

Ryan finally turned his face away, screwing his eyes shut. Breath so hot it felt like steam whispered across his cheek, and then there were lips on his neck. He twitched, instinctively pushing at Shane’s shoulders. “No-“

“Yes,” Shane sighed against his throat, lips barely parted as he dragged his mouth along the tendon. He licked at the skin, little kitten licks at first. Like he was getting a taste.

“Stop,” Ryan whispered, unable to shout it like he... like he should. He could still taste blood. The licks moved up to the pulse point under his jaw, and then he flinched at the scrape of fangs. “Ah!”

“Such pretty sounds,” Shane rumbled. Ryan could feel it in his throat, the vibrations making his skin tingle. “I want to drag out all your little noises from your pretty mouth.”

“You’re sick,” Ryan croaked out, his hands curling around Shane’s bare shoulders. His skin was hot, unnaturally hot. Like a fever.

Shane just set his fangs against Ryan’s jaw and nibbled. It sent pinpricks of pain and thrill down Ryan’s spine. A hand was suddenly on against his chest, pressing him down to the floor, and he grunted at the force.

“You want this,” Shane murmured, gazing down at him with fire in his eyes. He blinked once, slow and languid. “I can taste it. You’re scared, and ashamed, and so fucking hard.”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably, unable to deny any of it. The evidence was right there, hot and painful in his pants even as he squirmed under the prickle of claws through his shirt.

When he dared to meet Shane’s gaze, the demon had tilted his head back and let his mouth fall open. Moonlight slanted across one horn and half of his face, glinting off a fang. Shane stared down at Ryan through his lashes, looking drunk as his lips parted and his tongue flickered out. It was too quick to see, but Ryan knew instinctively that it wasn’t human.

Shane groaned quietly, and Ryan felt his back break out in goosebumps. Shane inhaled through his mouth again, then then licked his lips with another flash of tongue and seemed to savor the taste in the air. “Ryan,” he breathed, swaying slightly as his eyes slit with pleasure, “I’ll never get enough of you. Your fear and arousal taste better than anything I’ve ever had.”

“Shut up,” Ryan bit out, finding his voice again, weak as it was. “You’re a monster.”

The demon smirked. “Yeah, and you love it. You love that your best friend is a creature bent on destroying lives. You want me to corrupt you. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“No,” Ryan retorted weakly. “No, you’re not Shane, my friend is good. He- he’s a good person.”

“Would that make you feel better?” the demon asked, and it actually looked curious. Then its eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. You want this body to take you by force, but you don’t want it to mean Shane is a bad person. Which means... you want Shane to be unable to stop. Oh, Ryan.”

Ryan hiccuped on a desperate sob, trying not to think about how his limbs were shaking with need. It wasn’t need, it was terror. It had to be. “No.”

“You do,” the demon marveled, wings shivering in pleasure as it grinned. “You want me to tell you that Shane is trapped inside his own mind, watching what he’s doing to you but he can’t stop himself.”

“No.” He can’t string anything stronger together, mind skittering off into dangerous territory.

“I can do that,” the demon said, dragging his mind back to the present with a sharp-toothed grin. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Shane is locked up in his head, but don’t worry, he’s not hurt. Unless you want him to be.”

“No, of course not,” Ryan whined, staring at the red eyes that were terribly alien and horribly familiar.

The demon snickered. “You can’t lie to me, Ryan. You want to hurt him. Remember, I know your fantasies. You want to bend Shane over a table and have your way with him. You want to shove his long legs over your shoulders and fuck into him until he cries. You want to keep me in your home, locked away until you want to use my mouth.”

Ryan looked up with shock when the pronouns changed, and he was horrified to see Shane staring down at him with equal fear. “You want to hurt me,” Shane said, faint with realization. His eyes, so big and brown, looked betrayed, and Ryan felt his heart lurch.

“No,” he tried, sitting up and reaching for Shane. The man flinched back and he froze, dread trickling down his spine. Shane still had all the demonic attachments, besides his eyes, but he looked so hurt that it made Ryan’s heart stutter. He had fucked it up, he’d destroyed their friendship, Shane would never look at him again.

“You want to shove me onto my knees and boss me around,” Shane continued, looking more confused when his mouth just kept spilling Ryan’s secrets. They both realized at the same time that he couldn’t stop talking. “You- you want to keep me on the edge for hours, and then drag a knife across my body. You w-want to carve your name into my skin.”

Ryan could feel his breaths coming in heavy gasps, mortification mixing with desire in his belly until he was wretchedly aroused, stuttering out, “No, I- No, I’d never hurt you, Shane, please-“

“You want to break me,” Shane gasped out, hands flying to his mouth as his eyes squeezed shut. His voice was barely muffled when he groaned, “You want me to break you.”

Ryan bit back a desperate sound, watching with equal horror and relief when Shane’s eyes opened red and black. The demon whimpered, “You want me to wreck you just as much as you want to wreck me. You want me to hold you down and call you my pretty boy.”

Ryan felt a tear slip down his cheek, unable to decide if it was better or worse now that the demon was talking about hurting him instead of Shane. God, Shane had heard everything, could see how sick Ryan was even now. “Shane, I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“Don’t be,” the demon said flippantly, wrapping his long, clawed fingers around Ryan’s wrist and pulling him closer. “Look, Shane wants it just as bad.” Ryan’s hand brushed against the front of Shane’s sleep pants, and he flinched when he felt an unmistakable erection.

The demon moaned, “Fuck me. Or- fuck Shane. Oh, whatever, I’m done with the charade.”

“What?” Ryan whispered, but the demon just crawled on top of him and grinded down without further comment, dragging their erections together in almost painful relief for the pressure. “Ah!”

“Ryan, please,” the demon, Shane, huffed out as his back arched and his hands curled around Ryan’s shoulders. “I don’t care what you have to tell yourself, I just need you in me. Now.”

“But-“ Ryan stammered, knocked off course again. He didn’t understand, did that mean that Shane wasn’t possessed? Was he just teasing Ryan? Was he really a demon bent on ruining Ryan?

The demon swirled his hips in tight little circles, making little noises in the back of his throat as he pressed all of himself against all of Ryan.

Ryan shoved himself off the wall and wrapped his arms around Shane, pulling him down to shove their lips together. It pinched and stung, but they both moaned into the other’s mouth and pressed impossibly closer.

Ryan let himself fall back against the carpet, pulling Shane down with him and sliding his hands all over the demon. One hand dragged through his hair, guiding his head for deeper kissing, then wrapped around Shane’s horn. Shane whimpered and shook against him, arching into the touch when Ryan’s other hand grabbed at his ass.

“Ryan,” he exhaled against Ryan’s mouth, breath hot and dark as it curled into Ryan’s lungs. Ryan rumbled wordlessly and thrust up against him, coaxing another whine out of the demon. “Nnh, Ryan.”

“Shane,” Ryan muttered, eyes drifting shut as he focused on feeling. Shane’s skin was still feverhot under his, on top of him. He felt heat pool between his legs, and sweat prickle at his hairline, and his collarbone flushed when Shane’s mouth drifted down and started laying searing kisses and bites.

“Ryan,” Shane said against his throat, urgent and breathless.

“Shane,” he answered, twisting under Shane’s hands. He couldn’t move, wrapped up in Shane’s heat until he burned.

“Ryan,” Shane said again, more insistent. Ryan writhed in place, trying to reach up and touch his face. His arms were caught on something. Shane must have been holding him down.

“Can’t move,” Ryan gritted out, tossing his head side to side as he flushed hotter and hotter. He felt like he’d explode like a supernova, if only Shane would keep rubbing against him. Shane was teasing him again, barely brushing against his hard cock and keeping him from touching himself. “Fuck, lemme-“

“Ryan!” Shane snapped, and Ryan fell still. Right, Shane probably had a plan, he just had to be patient. His whole body ached, though, and he whined petulantly.

“Ryan.”

“I’m hot...”

“Ryan!”

“Please...”

“Please what?”

Please stop. Please keep going. Please let this end. Please keep us here forever. Please let me come.

“Ryan!”

Ryan’s eyes flew open on a gasp and he tensed at the sight of Shane, looking human again, frowning down at him. Had he done something wrong?

“Ryan, you were having a nightmare,” Shane said, and Ryan blinked dumbly at him, still confused. What?

“What?” he mumbled, looking Shane over. His shirt was on, no sign of his wings. Where’d they go?

“You were having a nightmare,” Shane explained patiently, sitting back. Ryan realized he wasn’t on top of him, but sat by his side with his legs crossed under him. “You woke me up. I think you felt caught in your sleeping bag, because you kept wiggling around. And you’re sweating.”

Ryan looked down at himself to find yes, he was still in his sleeping bag. It was stuck to his skin with sweat, pinning his arms by his sides and rubbing against his collarbone when he shifted. “Oh my god,” Ryan whispered, embarrassed for a whole new reason. That had all been a dream.

“You’re okay now,” Shane said, patting Ryan on the shoulder then grimacing at how sweaty he was. “Whatever dream you had, it looked pretty intense. I figured I should wake you up before you pissed yourself.”

Ryan just grunted something incoherent, staring blankly at the wall as the real world sunk in like ice water. He’d really dreamed all of that? That would explain some things, least of all thinking Shane is a demon.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he said finally, but didn’t make a move to get up. Shane tilted his head in confusion, then seemed to realize what was up. His eyebrows raised and he backed away, holding his hands up.

“Right, sure, no problem. Uh, I’ll- look over here. Go- go do your business.”

“Smooth,” Ryan said wryly to the back of Shane’s head, because Shane was staring out the window with his hands awkwardly resting on his hips. Ryan rolled his eyes even though he knew he was flushed, and practically ran to the en-suite bathroom.

Thank fuck there was running water. Ryan turned on the shower even as he doubted they’d have enough time for him to actually wash himself, needing a noise to drown out his own heavy breathing.

Ryan bent over the sink and contemplated slamming his head into the mirror, mortified that Shane had seen him like that. More mortified at what his subconscious had come up with. That was all kinds of fucked up.

Ryan hesitantly glanced down at his dick like he was afraid it was going to start yelling about his fantasies. It was still uncomfortably hard, and he fidgeted as he debated how to take care of it.

Well, the shower was already on...

It didn’t take long for Ryan to do his business, wash his face (and other significantly messy parts) and get ready for the day. He couldn’t stop blushing, though, every time he remembered the dream. He was dreading sitting in a car with Shane for the next two hours.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, not exactly clean but more put together than before, Shane was rolling up his sleeping bag. They looked at each other, then quickly looked away. Ryan burned with embarrassment.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry about- all that.”

“No, yeah,” Shane said hastily, still not looking at him. “It’s fine, it’s totally... natural, y’know.”

“Still.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so Ryan just cleaned up his sleeping bag and pillow, and checked the camera. He would have to look at the footage to see if his activities were at all obvious before handing it over to the editors.

“Think we got anything interesting?” Shane asked, suddenly behind him. Ryan jumped and found him smirking. “Anything that comes to attention?”

“Shut up,” Ryan laughed, blushing again but less mortified this time. “If I hear one more joke about it, I’m going to bury you in the backyard.”

“Oh, you’ll bury something,” Shane drawled with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Ryan hit him with his pillow until he ducked out of the room cackling.

Ryan looked around the room one last time, and everything was in its place. His holy water was still on the floor where he had put it, the door was unlocked, and there were no gouges in the walls at shoulder height.

The sun peeked over the horizon as the team left the manor, unable to warm them when its pink rays were intercepted by the dark tree branches, but Ryan felt warm anyway. Partially from his lingering shame, partially from relief that Shane wasn’t disgusted with him. He must not have heard that much.

Just before Ryan got in the passenger seat, Shane leaned in and murmured, “Are we done with the charade, pretty boy?”

Ryan’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he stared wide-eyed as Shane sauntered over to the drivers side and slid into the seat. Even if he was talking in his sleep the whole time, he’d never said those words himself. That had been the demon. Shane.

But how?

Ryan numbly sunk into his seat, still staring at Shane as the man started the car then pulled away from the manor. His face was composed, but he spared a glance to wink at Ryan at a stop sign.

His eyes were red and black.


End file.
